


Any Morning

by curseofgrima



Series: Frederick and Morgan [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Young Morgan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7304965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofgrima/pseuds/curseofgrima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A morning Frederick spends with his precious son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Morning

“Papa,” Morgan mumbled, wiping the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and holding his teddy bear with the other.  


Frederick turned to look at his son while still in the middle of drying off a bowl. A smile graced his face as Morgan let out a wide-mouthed yawn and shuffled towards him, still half-asleep. He reached beneath his arms and picked him up with a loving squeeze, Morgan putting his arms around his neck for a sleepy hug. “What are you doing awake this early?"  


"The sun was so bright it woke me up, and I heard you doin’ somethin’ so I came to see what it was.” Morgan returned his smile and looked down at the dwindling pile of dishes in the sink. “I thought you washed those last night?”  


Frederick chuckled softly. “I do not have to wash dishes only at night, you know? Or else where would the dirty dishes from breakfast go?” Morgan normally woke up after he had fixed something to eat, cleaned, and put everything away in the kitchen, so it came to his attention that the boy had never seen him working this early in the morning. Although Robin was a night owl and slept in later than their son, he did have to admit that he enjoyed the one-on-one time it gave him with Morgan.  


Morgan suddenly began to pout. “Mom is never awake this early…”  


“You do not want to spend time with me?” Frederick pretended to be offended.  


Morgan quickly shook his head with a worried frown. “I didn’t say that! I love playin’ with you, Papa.” He hugged his father again in reassurance.  


Frederick chuckled playfully and ruffled Morgan’s hair. When he tried to smooth it back down afterwards, it flew back up in a puff of static. Sighing to himself, Frederick ran some clean water over his hand and tried to smooth the hair back down. He smiled as it stayed down for a few moments…before a few hairs suddenly stuck back up. “My word…”  


Morgan laughed, taking his hands and running it through his hair until it was a spiky mess. “Look, I’m Lon'qu!” He faked a glare mirroring his friend Owain’s father and pretended to deepen his voice, “Begone, women!”  


Despite his best efforts not to, Frederick laughed at the act and shook his head. He did his best to comb out the new mess with his fingers and put Morgan back on the floor with a smirk. “Come with me. We will try to fix that unruly head.”  


Excited and a little curious, Morgan followed him into the bathroom. Sitting on the stool his father led him to, he watched with wide eyes as Frederick shuffled through his personal cabinet full of different products he either made or bought. Some of his mother’s items were also mixed in, but Morgan did not know what any of it was since he was not allowed to touch his parent’s things. His mind strayed to the empty tub and the wooden bucket used to fill it with water sitting next to it. He wondered with distaste if his father would make him take a bath after he finished. A chill spread through him from remembering the feeling of cold water against his skin.  


“Here we go,” Frederick said, bringing Morgan out of his thoughts. He pulled a round tin out and popped the lid off.  


Morgan wrinkled his nose at the cream-like substance.  


“What is that? It looks gross!”  


Frederick gathered up the gel in his hands and gently ran it through Morgan’s hair. His son squirmed a bit at the gooey sensation, but obediently stopped with an angry huff after being ordered to hold still. Frederick stood back and examined his work, but chuckled at Morgan’s pouting face beneath the severe smoothed back hair on his head.  


“Papa!” Morgan yelled in exasperation. He couldn’t see himself, but he knew he must have looked awful. Owain and the others would surely laugh at him! “It’s not funny! Stop laughing, or I’ll tell Mom you were teasin’ me!”  


At the boy’s almost tear-filled request, Frederick covered his mouth to recover from his laughing fit and cleared his throat. “It seems you have unruly hair like your mother and I. I had hopes you would be able to style your hair more like my father’s when you are older, since I have never been able to.”  


He left the room and returned with some water and a towel, wetting his hands and running it back through Morgan’s hair in different directions. Morgan made a noise as he bundled his head up in the fluffy towel and quickly rubbed his hair. Frederick repeated this until the gel was completely gone, and then ran a comb through his little boy’s hair until the cowlick was smoothed down.  


Full of energy and needing to be distracting from just sitting still on the stool for what felt like forever to him, Morgan looked up at his father. “What did your papa look like?”  


Smiling softly, Frederick put down the comb and dried off his hands. “I can show you, but only for a moment.” He got to work on his own hair until it was also combed down and as straight as it would go, which Morgan found very strange because he had never seen him that way before. Curiosity kept him quiet. It felt as if he was watching a secret no one else could know about as his father worked the gel through his own hair.  


“What do you think?”  


Frederick turned around, his hair smoothed back so that he had no bangs except for a few escaped strands falling over his brow here and there. He lowered his eyes and tightened his mouth. His expression was one of utmost severity. He appeared to command an amount of authority that was almost suffocating to Morgan, and he felt uncomfortable in his seemingly calculating presence. “Go back to normal! You’re not my Papa!”  


Suddenly, his father’s face brightened and the intense glare disappeared from his eyes. His hair began to stick up and curl out even when covered in the gel, slowly turning him back into the papa he knew.  


“I have never been able to get my hair to stay this way for more than an hour at most, and only if I cake it on until it looks extremely unbecoming.” Frederick washed and dried his hair, fixing it back to his normal style in between kept and wild. “My father was a very strict man who some people thought was cold, but he was actually very kind and good at heart. He was truly the perfect knight in my eyes,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, I inherited my sweet mother’s unruly hair, although it always looked beautiful on her.”  


Morgan reached for his father, wrapping his arms around his neck in a hug when he knelt down close. “I like your hair the way it is.”  


"I like it now, too,“ Frederick said with a satisfied hum. "It looks like your hair.”  


Morgan giggled.  


"What’s going on here?“ A sleepy voice asked from the door. The two looked up to see Robin leaning against the doorframe with a yawn. One of her hands straightened out her ruffled shirt while the other combed down her messy hair. She smiled at them as Morgan jumped up with glee and ran to her, hugging her waist and telling the new story about his grandfather.  


"I would have loved to see that,” she said with a smirk while staring at Frederick, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Tell me more over breakfast.” She led her son out of the room by his hand as he chattered away excitedly.  


Frederick recalled a fond memory of the time when he would hold his own mother’s hand and talk to her with ease, his father looking on with silent approval. He always loved it when he flashed one of his rare smiles down at him, but now he was the father and it was his responsibility to watch over his own son. He smiled as he went to set out breakfast for his family. 


End file.
